


Found Hood

by Who_First



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, under the red hood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-26
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-06 01:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Who_First/pseuds/Who_First
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes things don't always end when you want them to, and you have to deal with people who try to kill you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Missing Hood

Tim huddled tighter in Dick’s old coat, worn at the elbows, but thick and warm, and smelling like safety. It was winter in Gotham and he knew he should be safely at home, and _lonely_ , but he’d been side tracked at the downtown coffee shop.

Dick had planned on meeting him there, and taking him home, but something had come up. _Patrolling_. Of course Dick had only hung up after making sure Tim had someone else he could get a ride from.

He felt a little bad about lying.

A lot had changed in the last few months. Dick had become overbearing and a worrier, Alfred made sure that Tim had everything he could possibly need, and Bruce…was guilty in his distance.

 

 

 

“Hey kid!”

Tim twisted his head back, gulping as he saw the group of young men trailing after him. Three, all larger and outweighing him by at least fifty pounds, one with chains wrapped around his wrists. He could make out knives in the other two’s pockets.

“C’mere kid!”

The voice was oily, Tim picking up speed, as he hoped to get away. He felt at his pockets, pulling out his cell phone. Eye’s flickered between the tiny phone screen, and the sidewalk, fingers pressing at the buttons.

The screen stayed black, and Tim groaned, remembering taking out the battery so that Dick would stop calling to check on him. Another glance over his shoulder, trying to judge if he could get out the battery and put it back. They were gaining on him.

“Yeah! Don’t you know it’s dangerous out here?”

The laughter behind him sounded like hyenas circling the kill. Disturbing images, as Tim broke into a run. He didn’t even have a batarang or pepper spray, thanks to his worried family. Or _anything,_ that could be helpful.

 _Oh no Tim, we can’t let you keep the tools. You might go out on your own and get hurt_.

Hypocritical bastards. Screaming was out of the question. The book bag was dropped in his hands, getting a grip, the books were heavy enough he could brain one of them.

A hand closed over his arm and yanked before he could pull away, spinning Tim backwards as he was thrown. Another pair of hands caught him, wrapping around his chest and lifting, trapping his arms and bag in place at his sides. Tim squeaked brokenly, wriggling, as the laughter grew louder.

“Cute kid,” The oily voice whispered into his ear. Shiver’s off disgust trailing down his spine as hands tightened. “You know what we do to cute kids around here?”

Tim whipped his head back, grinning savagely at the wet crunch of breaking bones. Twisting around, sending his foot crunching back into a shin. The man behind him yelped loudly, nails biting into Tim’s skin, shoving the boy forwards.

He hit the ground hard, gravel digging into his skin, and was rolling immediately. The first man’s foot slamming down on his ankle, leg going instantly numb, Tim flipped over and kicked out with his good leg as the kicker followed him, knife held at the ready, foot bouncing off a shin, as the man staggered.

Broken nose was staggering away, screaming about his bones, and tripping up the third member with the chains. Tim was scurrying backwards, pulling away with his hands, hand catching up gravel and dirt. The kicker moved forwards again, nasty smirk spreading over his face, dodging Tim’s one flailing foot.

Dirt and gravel flew, the man stabbing downwards with the knife catching it face first, Tim’s hands cupped, colliding with the left ribs. Smashing the man away from him, like a baseball. He rolled away, the man crashing down beside him, swearing screams again Tim’s parents.

He could have told them that they were both bastards. It just didn’t have anything to do with his fighting ability.

Tim twisted again, the fallen attacker’s feet connecting with his ribs, curling as he tried to soften the attack.

There was the third member, chains loose in hands, whipping against the ground and Tim’s arms. Arms started tingling, lip split open from a glancing blow, one hand and chain wrapping around his arm. Tim struggled as the man straddled his body, chains loose and heavy against his neck, hands grabbing his collar and strangling.

Tim slapped back with numb hands, trying to box at ears, stabbing fingers toward squishy eyes. Oxygen was vanishing, blackness closing in, hands tightening around his neck.

“Well isn’t this interesting.”

The harsh, drawling voice froze the gang and Tim, all glancing up as one. _That wasn’t Batman_. It was much worse.

Bats never killed.

Tim gasped, the hand around his neck and collar releasing, choking on the return of air. Then his brain caught up with his eyes, his insides freezing in fear as he took in the red helmet straight from his nightmares. All around him gang members were stepping away, hands high in the air as they muttered apologies, backing away from Tim and his demon.

The world started buzzing, loud as his body overloaded in panic, turning him into a boneless puppet. Tim scooted backwards, frantically trying to put more space between them. Not caring about the gang bangers still armed behind him.

The tall form unfurled, standing tall on the fire escape, blank faced helmet focusing on the movement. Tim tasted his own fear, heart thudding in a staccato beat, chest heaving as he tried to breathe. Watching as deadly hands tightened on the old metal, leaning forwards in threat.

“Look we didn’t mean nothing-“

“Won’t touch him!”

“Just wanted to play-“

Words getting through the panic still meant nothing to Tim, his throat drying up and closing off. Tim could still tell they were getting ready to run, leaving him alone with the watching nightmare.

Slow steps took the Red Hood down the rusty stairs, pieces flaking off with each movement. The killer looked larger than life, jacket flapping and showing off the guns, looming closer. He moved like a predator, the fin above the water circling around, moving steadily closer.

“Get out of here, you screw heads.”

They ran, dust and trash flying along in their wake, and Tim could hear them screaming like someone was chasing them. Like the danger was chasing, when it was standing over Tim.

“Now, what the hell are you doing here?”

Tim’s throat worked; dry as a desert, as he tried swallowing his fear. Hands busy grabbing up more of the dirt under his fingers, readying for the attack. It worked once…

The Red Hood cocked his head; hands at his hands staying away from the guns Tim had seen hiding under his leather jacket. Leather creaked and fluttered with the strengthening wind, making Jason look like an avenging angel.

“Bat got your tongue kid?”

Tim shivered as Jason’s head cocked, helmet twitching and radiating anger, pointing a finger at him.

“Drop the dirt, before I drop you.”

Tim twitched, all over, pulling his hands to his chest, as Jason growled behind the helmet.

“Get up here, you idiot.”

“Wh-“ Tim swallowed, words refusing to make it past his throat.

“What?” Jason reached down slowly, exaggerating every more, as he grabbed Tim’s shoulder, pulling him up, and steadying him as his legs gave out.

“Are you…here?” Tim had a hand to his throat, pressing against the pain as he coughed between words. His other hand was clenching at his, _Dick, safety_ , jacket in fear. Trying to keep from touching Jason any more than necessary.

“My territory, replacement.” Jason snorted, dragging the younger boy around by the shoulder, pulling Tim along.

Tim stayed stiff and brittle, Jason’s arm around his shoulder. The hand was tight and he knew, _just knew_ , that Jason wasn’t letting go anytime soon. Not with the way fingers were curling into his arm.

“Stop thinking so much.” Jason snorted, as they rounded the corner and saw the bike. “Come on.”

Tim was yanked onto the bike behind Jason before he could protest. Both wrists pulled around Jason’s waist, held tight in one larger hand. One elbow jabbed back lightly, stopping Tim from thinking about fighting.

“I got stuff to do. Try and fuck around. See what happens.”

Instead Tim closed his eyes, holding on tight. He was a complete idiot, who was going to _die,_ and it was going to suck _so_ _bad_. He would never go anywhere without multiple tasers again.

He did find out something new and important.

Jason drove _terribly_.

That’s what Tim’s hind brain was gibbering in terror, anyway.

Tim opened his eyes, only to slam them closed again as they scraped paint off on a wall they flew past. Breaking the laws of gravity as the motorcycle tilted to street level, sparking as they slid under a semi, and then jerking back up on the other side.

Another turn had them riding up onto the sidewalk, dodging screaming pedestrians and mail boxes. Hopping a crack sent them flying back into the street, seconds in front of a four wheeler, and speeding down a smaller alley.

Jason lifted a hand, whooping as they flew past overturned cars, waving hookers, and more loitering gang members. Tim hid his face in Jason’s broad back and whimpered, realizing that Jason wasn’t holding on to the cycle.

Tim held tighter as the cycle roared, things were _brushing_ against his legs, as they flew on. It was a relief when Jason’s hand went back to the handle, twisting around a corner and screeching to a halt. Tim slammed against Jason’s back, gasping again as he bit into his lip.

Jason released Tim’s wrists, the younger boy shying away off the motorcycle, as Jason dismounted. Tim didn’t get away, not with Jason’s longer arms reaching out and snagging him, before he could get his legs to work.

He just pulled Tim close again, pushing him ahead down the alley. Tim couldn’t pull away, Jason was still supporting too much of his weight, then they were around the corner and standing outside a dark and worn green door. Tim didn’t have time to balk as Jason yanked the door open and shoved Tim into the dimly lit bar, Jason’s hand still heavy on his shoulder, guiding him along until they were sitting in front of the bar.

“Hey,” The bartender looked like a human weasel, eyes tracking desperately back and forth as he tried to look around Tim, searching for help. “This is a bar sir. Can’t have no kids here.”

“Yeah, Nicky?” Jason pulled his helmet off, Tim swallowing hard as he tried not to look, leaning forwards with his whited out eyes staring through the quivering excuse for humanity. “You want me to get out of here?”

“N-nnn-no!” The bartender was shaking as he grabbed top shelf whiskey. “I j-just meant the kid can’t stay.”

“Well see there’s a problem.” Jason sighed in mock annoyance, arm yanking Tim closer and patting his cheek. “Babysitting my little brother here. Can’t just leave him outside with the _criminals_.”

Jason paused, letting threats sink into his wide grin as he stared back. Tim almost cowered at his side, knowing just how bad this could end up.

“You going to try and stop me?”

The bar had gone quiet, waiting for the other shoe to drop as the bartender shuddered. Some patrons were trying to sneak out behind Jason, hunkering down as if he couldn’t see them and sliding towards the door.

“N-nno Red Hood, sir.”  The bartender backed off, leaving the whiskey in front of the ex-vigilante. “It’s different if he’s your brother.”

Jason’s lips twisted in a disgusted sneer as the bartender scurried away. Behind them the rest of the bar breathed in relief.

“Spineless asshole.” Jason muttered twisting open the bottle, and drinking straight.

“He’s scared of you.” Tim’s voice was soft hoarse, still painful to talk, not meeting Jason’s intrigued gaze.

“Sure.” Jason raised an eyebrow behind his mask, eyeing Tim closely. “What’s your excuse?”

“You cut my throat.” His hand was back against his throat, pressing hard as the words tore their way out of his mouth.   _Not what he meant to say_. “Was traumatizing.”

“You got better.” Jason’s grin was shit eating, huge and blinding. Reaching over the counter and snagging a shot glass before filling it up and dropping it in front of Tim. “Drink that. You sound like shit.”

Tim frowned, the stuff reeked, burning away at his nose hairs, as it was pushed closer to him.

“Drink up Baby,” Jason purred softly, yanking on some of Tim’s hair. “It’ll make both of us better company.”

Jason lifted the shot glass up, other hand gripping at the back of Tim’s neck in warning. Tim eyed the drink with a quivering lip and wet eyes, trying not to breathe the stench in as it was shoved against his lips.

“We’re getting along so well,” Jason drawled smugly. “Do I need to make you?”

Tim glared angrily, at Jason’s chin, still too nervous to meet the white eyes. He grabbed the small glass away, tiny drops dripping over his fingers, and throwing the drink back.

He gagged as the fire hot liquid dripped down his throat, burning hot as it moved into his chest. Jason started laughing, thumping on Tim’s shoulder as he continued coughing. When Tim looked, Jason even had a weird smile on his face.

If Tim didn’t know how Jason felt about him, he’d say it was fondness.

Jason continued with the odd look as he pushed over a second shot, eyebrows lowering dangerously until Tim picked it up again. Tim tightened his lips as he pulled it up.

“Think I’m going to keep you.”

Tim choked, whiskey burning through his nose, sending him into coughing fits, and gasping for breath. Finally he managed to look up at Jason up with wide bloodshot eyes, at the amused glance.

“You can’t-“

“Really?” Jason stood, dragging Tim along behind him. “You’re wandering downtown Gotham, look like crap, could never fucking hope to keep up with me. What’s gonna stop me?”


	2. Chapter 2

“I can’t stop you.” Tim wouldn’t meet Jason’s eyes as he whispered the words, to worried about what the look on the ex Robin’s face was, hands worrying together as he tried to pull away. “But people,” Batman, “would look for me.”

“Sure they would.” Jason snorted, one arm holding Tim’s frail form against his side, as he shoved through the crowd.

Well he would have shoved through the crowd, if the crowd wasn’t smart enough to jump out of his way, leaving feet of empty space around them as Jason stalked to the door. It was similar to Moses parting the red seas, or ships parting for the Titanic, or to the sane reacting to the Red Hood trolling bars. 

They moved. Quickly.

“Just like Bats tore apart the fucking town when you went missing.” Jason drawled, arm wrapped around the smaller boy’s waist, glaring at anyone daring enough to look at them. “He didn’t even notice you were gone pretender.”

Tim shuddered against Jason’s side, trying not to listen to the truth slipping from angry lips, fingers picking at his own clothing in nerves. Bruce would come, he knew about Jason now, of course he would come.

And even if he...didn’t come... Dick would.

“And if you think Dick’s coming?” Jason snorted, yanking the bar door open, disgust and amusement warring across his face. “Dick’s staying in Bludhaven. No way is he coming back here. You think he’s coming back, you don’t know those two good enough.”

“He would.” Tim protested. His voice was as loud as a whisper, one Jason could still hear clearly, hands to shaking. 

“Really? Think the fuck again.” Jason leaned against his motorcycle, breathing deeply as his breath ran away in small clouds.”You’ve been _grounded_. Who the hell do you think is going to check on you? Maybe your parents?”

Tim’s hands were wringing together faster, he didn’t even know where his parents were, he’d been too busy with vigilante business and YJ to listen when they left. 

“He didn’t ground me.” Tim protested weakly. “He just...suggested I take a break.”

“A break. Sure.” Jason snorted again, hand curving around the back of Tim’s neck as he pulled the boy closer. “And if he calls you’re gonna go running back huh?”

The dark head ducked down, trying to look away from Jason’s accusing eyes. 

“See kid. Bruce isn’t gonna take you back. Not after I hurt you. He doesn’t trust you or himself to keep you safe.” Jason spat the words, eyes lost to the past, anger at the world obvious. “Then you’re gonna go out and try and prove that you can be useful. Cause it’s not like there’s anything else fucking important in your life.”

Tim shivered as the hand around his neck tightened. Jason kept glaring down at him, grim and relived and panicked, the same look Tim had seen just after Jason had sat sobbing over the Joker’s corpse.

Jason stopped, eyes closed and jaw moving, face going blank as he pulled back the anger. Letting his forehead rest on Tim’s, finally pulling his hand away from the little bird’s neck, breathing slowly into the dark hair. 

“And then you know what you’d do?” Jason wrapped his hands around Tim’s waist, _fuck it was like picking up a child_ , dropping him onto the motorcycle seat and somewhat closer to eye to eye. “Then you’d get your stupid ass killed and he could be all sanctimonious and shit.”

Tim winced. That scenario had already occurred to him. Along with what he needed to obtain, before being able to make vigilante-ing a bit safer on his own. He could easily talk Kon and Bart into helping him get set up, possibly even helping him. 

“So guess what.” 

Jason leaned in again, not like a lover much to Tim’s relief, and not at all how the Joker had looked at him before the insane clown’s death. Just like someone pushed beyond the edge. And someone way to determined for Tim’s own good.

He winced, holding his breathe, trying to keep the panic inside while Jason rested his forehead against Tim’s again, easier now that Tim was bit higher up. And Jason’s skin was so hot compared to the cold Gotham night. A lot hotter than Tim would ever have thought from his hero, the _dead_ Robin.

“I’m not going to let _Bruce_ kill off another Robin. Not after me.”

Tim shifted, canting his eyes up to look at Jason’s sad expression.

“You sound conflicted.” The words were out before Tim slapped his hands over his mouth. 

Green blue eyes backed up, looking at Tim’s own blue eyes in surprise, making Tim start biting at the ends of his fingernails in the oppressive silence.

“Conflicted is a good word for it.” Jason laughed, ruffling Tim’s hair, before yanking on one of Tim’s smaller hands. “Don’t chew your fingernails. Brat.”

“Why?” Tim hunched as Jason threw his leg over the motorcycle. 

“Because it makes you look stupid.” Jason snorted, wrapping Tim’s hands around his waist again before starting the heavy machine. “‘Cause I said so. Do not piss me off by falling off.” 

Tim didn’t bother to hide the eye roll, safe as he was pressed up against Jason’s muscled back, squeak of surprise hidden by the roar of the engine. Holding on tightly as they accelerated and lurched out into the gathering storm.

And Tim was forced to reassess his initial assessment of Jason’s driving skills. Since the ex Robin drove like the batshit insane that had already faced death once and wasn’t scared of driving head on into oncoming traffic. 

Jason was kind enough not to mention the whimpering and fingers digging into his chest when he stopped. Tim was doing full body shivers as he fell off the motorcycle, fear and adrenaline mixing, and he was so happy pulling hims arms away from Jason when the engine stopped. 

“Real safe place you have there Pretender.” 

Looking up from the ground, nice safe not insane ground, Tim was surprised to see they were sitting outside his family’s home. Home. Tim shivered at the reminder, it felt like all he did around Jason was shiver, remembering that his home wasn’t safe. It wasn’t even a home. 

Jason glanced down, where Tim was still subtly worshipping the ground, looking completely bored as he leaned against his fist. He looked irritatingly smug, though the rain was starting to make it harder to tell for sure.

“Come on Pretender.” Jason stood sneering as his boots sank into the mud, before nudging at Tim’s shoe. “Little birds shouldn’t be outside in the rain.”

Tim pursed his lips, eyes narrowed, glaring weakly as Jason pulled him up. Once again being pulled under Jason’s arm, half dragged and half pushed along with Jason. 

Jason didn’t pause before fishing the keys out of Tim’s pocket, snickering as Tim jumped against his side, trying to bat the hand away. Another two seconds and Tim was shoved into the cold mausoleum. 

“This way Bird brat.” Jason’s grip moved briefly, stripping Tim’s wet jacket off along with his own, before shoving Tim towards the kitchen.

And no. Tim was going to think about how Jason seemed at ease in his home, that was the way to screaming and panic attacks and not the way to figuring out how to get Jason to leave. Besides. Jason had probably just explored the entire house while waiting for Tim to come home so he could kidnap the younger Robin.

Oh look. They were in the kitchen. Tim was sucking in air, trying to stem off the incoming panic attack and black spots weaving in front of his eyes.

Jason shoved Tim at one of the stools around the kitchen island, leaving his attention free to dig through the cupboards and stacking miscellaneous equipment on the counters. Tim watched in numb distress as Jason started boiling water. 

It was all so very domestic looking. If one discounted that the taller man had a bullet hole in his shirt.

“Jason?” 

“You want something bird brain?” Jason dropped sugar, it looked like sugar, into the pot as he stirred. Pause. And a lot more sugar was dumped in.

“I...” Tim coughed. Jason looked... pretty comfortable and at ease, and not paying attention to Tim which was something he felt needed to be reinforced as the proper way of things. “What are you doing?”

“Making a heated chocolate beverage with way to much sugar involved.” Jason snorted, smiling at the stove in genuine affection. “That’s what Alfred likes to call hot cocoa.”

“Oh.” Tim had never seen Alfred making anything of the sort. But then Tim didn’t spend a lot of time hanging around Manor’s kitchen. 

“Yep. Alfred might’ve stuck his nose up the idea but he always made some for me after my rounds.” Jason stirred the pot, letting what could _conceivably_ be chocolate. 

Tim was...confused. And his head was starting to pound in the way it did when Gotham’s villains were being particularly confusing and insane. 

“Stop thinking so hard. And grab some cups.” Jason waved the stirring spoon, ignoring the drops of chocolate flying off the end. 

Slinking around the island, Tim reached up to grab two mugs, hesitantly setting them down on the island while Jason switched off the stove and swirled the pot around in the air. The pot was awkwardly poured, more chocolate spilling around the mugs. 

Tim eyed the mess, eyebrows up against his bangs, until Jason shoved one of the mugs towards him and glared threateningly. 

“You watched me make it. It’s not poisoned. Idiot.”

A small flinch, more because of the blush staining Tim’s cheek, hurriedly lifting the cup to his lips. Jason still watched with narrowed eyes and shit eating grin and-

_Oh my-_

“This is... really good.” Tim looked up in surprise, completely forgetting the chef was the same person who’d cut his throat last time they hung out, Hot cocoa making skills surpassed many things in life.

“Nice of you to be so surprised.” Jason took a gulp of his own cup, grinning smugly at the heavenly taste of chocolate. “Now. Lets talk business.” 

Tim looked up from worshiping the chocolaty goodness, freezing under the intense eyes.

“I don’t want to.” Tim whispered.

“Yeah? Too bad I’m not asking you brat. I’m telling you.”

Swallowing hard, relishing the burn as the chocolate went down his throat, Tim eyed Jason warily. Which is the correct response for dealing with possibly insane ex-vigilantes. 

“You’re not working with Batman anymore.” Jason swirled his hot cocoa. “But... since I can’t stop you from being an idiot, I decided you’re gonna work with me.”

Tim stopped. Instinctive fear warring with the fact that this was _his_ Robin offering. And then common sense started to kick back in.

“Hell no.”

“Alfred know you talk like that?” Jason smirked. “Cause he’d be glaring disapprovingly right now.”

Tim was beginning to hate that grin. And wish he was a bit larger, or had the guts, to try and wipe the grin off Jason’s face.

“Kid.” Jason pulled off one of his gloves and dipped the finger in his cooling drink. “I’m a crime lord. You’re not going to stop me. I have minions now. Idiots. But they do what I tell them.”

Tim pouted, eyebrows drawing inwards into glaring, lips pursed as his brain started whirling. 

“Stop pouting. You look like Dick.” Jason rolled his eyes, a little angrier, sucking on the tip of his pinky. “Thirteen year olds aren’t supposed to be fucking running around at night by themselves.”

“At least I wear pants.”

Jason’s eyebrows rose, the shit eating grin spreading over his face again. 

“Nice kid. I have to keep you now. World would boring without that wit.” Jason smirked. “Think about it. You can help people still. Controlling crime works better.”

“You kill people.” Tim stiffened. “That’s not helping.”

“Really? How many people you think the Joker would’ve killed? You don’t think there would have been more to stack on his count?” 

Tim flinched again. Flashing back to the heavy body crushing his own as blood soaked through his cloths into his skin.

“You. Are going. To be working. For me.” Jason stood, leaning over the kitchen island, calmly speaking into Tim’s face. 

Tim went cross eyed as Jason flicked his nose before standing.

“Get some sleep Pretender. Black Mask is still causing some problems.”

 


End file.
